


Make It Up To Me

by LokisGirl



Category: Metallica
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bullying, Fight Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 13:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokisGirl/pseuds/LokisGirl
Summary: Jason is constantly picked on by his bandmates. This is why he puts up with it. Everyone makes it up to him in their own way, with some unexpected results.
Relationships: James Hetfield/Jason Newsted, Jason Newsted/Lars Ulrich, Kirk Hammett/Jason Newsted
Comments: 21
Kudos: 19





	Make It Up To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katishas_right_elbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katishas_right_elbow/gifts).



After the show in Munich, I showered at the venue only to emerge dripping in a too small towel to find that our entire crew had disappeared along with all my clothes. They’d left me with ten American dollars and nothing else. I don’t speak German. I had no idea where the hotel was. 

Some people might be shocked to know that I wasn’t even a little surprised. This was situation normal in Newsted Land. The band treated me like garbage in public and any time there were more than two of us in a room. 

I didn’t mind. Outsiders think maybe I’m a doormat, or that I’m some sort of masochist, that I let them insult, prank and demean me for all those years. They’re wrong. So very, very, wrong. 

Every time they pulled one of their horrible pranks on me, the same thing would happen. Let me clarify- they thought the pranks were horrible. I actually got used to them quickly. They were usually half in the bag and drunks are not known for their creativity. They’d taken my clothes so many times I had a system. First thing- find either an office or a security guard. Get them to let me use the phone. Call our management in New York and get the hotel’s address. Usually, the guard would give me something to wear out of the building’s lost and found. They’d call me a cab and send me on my way. 

Annoying but boring.

I finally arrived at the hotel and was grateful to find the clerk at the desk spoke English. She ‘d already met my band mates and didn’t even bat an eye before handing over my room key. She even took a room service order for me while I was at the counter. 

It was a relief to find my bags in my room. That bit didn’t always happen. I put my own clothes on and settled in to wait. 

Right on time. Ten minutes after I got comfortable, Kirk knocked on my door. He slipped in with a guilty look and a bottle of wine. 

“Hey. Uh,” Kirk paused, blushing with shame. “You know I didn’t mean it, right? It’s hard not to go along when James and Lars get an idea. You know what a steamroller Lars can be.”

He poured two glasses of the wine and handed me one, his eyebrows knitted in regret. “No hard feelings, okay?”

I had my lines memorized by now. I sunk to the edge of the bed, my shoulders slumped. “It makes me feel so alone when you guys leave me out like that. Especially you, Kirk. I thought we were friends.” I made a point of thinking about that time my grandma was in the hospital to try and drum up some tears. No dice. Darn. I had to resort to puppy eyes. 

On cue, Kirk put an arm around my shoulders. “I am your friend, Jase. I guess I’m not a very good one.” 

I leaned into him, my head on his shoulder. “You all have each other and I’m out here alone.”

“No. That’s not true. I’m here.” Kirk couldn’t stand for anyone to feel picked on. Picking on someone was apparently okay, but he couldn’t ever know it had an impact without immediately going overboard to prove he was on their side.   
I schooled myself to show nothing but sadness and a little resistance the first time he kissed me. That inevitably lead to him trying harder, wrapping his long arms around me. I finally parted my lips to let him in. By that time, I had him where I wanted him. He worked his way down my neck, laving at my collarbone. He pulled at my t-shirt and I “reluctantly” let him peel it over my head. He spent a long time sucking and teasing at my nipples with his hands and his tongue. Eventually I let him push me back onto the bed. 

He was running short fingernails over my abs when he got around to asking the question I was waiting for. “Can I?” He put a hand on the button of my jeans. 

I made a small noise of encouragement. 

Kirk pushed his dark curls behind his ear and finished undressing me; my jeans and boxers pulled off roughly, left balled up on the floor. Kirk didn’t waste any time after that. He opened his lips and swallowed my dick like a pro. That’s it, Hamster, make me feel like you care. I buried my hands in his curls and let him do his penance. 

I hate to say it, but Kirk was at his best when he was up to his eyeballs in guilt. He took all those feelings and translated them directly into maximum effort. He’d take his time, teasing every part of me with his tongue, long slow strokes up the length and flicks around the head that made me thrust my hips until he nearly choked. He never once asked for anything in return. He moaned around my girth, the vibration pulling an orgasm out of me. I tightened my grip on his hair and made him swallow every drop. 

He crawled up the length of my body to drop kisses all over my face. “Feel better now? I told you you’re not alone.”

I mumbled something incomprehensible and let my eyes drift shut. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “That really knocks you out, doesn’t it?”

I nodded slowly, feigning sleep.

Kirk let himself out. I immediately made myself decent and went to the washroom to splash some water on my face and make sure my hair didn’t look too mussed. I had about fifteen minutes before my next guest arrived. 

When Lars breezed in, he was all business. He handed me an envelope with a shrug. “Sorry, dude. Half of it is Deutsche marks. There weren’t any banks open.”

I waved him off. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

“It’d be more fine if I wasn’t going broke paying James’ stupid band fines,” Lars complained, stripping off his hoodie and toeing off his shoes. He unzipped his jeans, stepping out of them and tossing them on top of his sweater. “Well, get on with it. Why are you still dressed? I haven’t got all night.”

I gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “Nope. You don’t get to dictate what I’m doing right now. Have you forgotten that you’re here to make sure I don’t quit the band?”

Lars sighed, exasperated. “Fine.” He hit his knees in front of me and unbuckled my belt. “I hope you’re happy now.”

“Just shut up and suck it,” I snapped. 

Making a great show of annoyance, Lars freed my limp member. He stroked it with a pout on his pretty lips. Well, he knew the deal before he agreed to ditch me and steal my things after the show. He could deal with it. 

But. I couldn’t. It was one thing to add a side of blackmail to our intermittent sex games; another thing altogether to make Lars do something he really didn’t want to do. That’s offside and I’m not that kind of scumbag. 

“Lars,” I took his chin in my hand and made him look up at me. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. The money will suffice. This time. If I’d been stuck taking a cab ride naked, you’d be in trouble. As it is, I’m not interested in forcing you.”

His pupils dilated a little. He shook his head. “No, I want to. I just wish I didn’t have to. Wouldn’t it be better if we could have come back here together like normal people?” He sat back and scrubbed a hand over his face. “If we didn’t need to have a standing arrangement about a literal goddamn fine of a thousand dollars Metallica owes you every time we treat you wrong? You know that Kirk and I go along when James is feeling mean so it doesn’t turn into something worse for all of us, right? It doesn’t even make sense. He doesn’t hate you, and neither do I.”

“I get it. I’m a convenient container for James’ rage,” I said, stroking Lars’ hair. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite. He didn’t have to wander all over Munich without shoes and socks tonight. I did. 

“Happily, I’m a convenient container for your cock. You wanna stop pretending I don’t want to blow you now? Oh, please Master Jason let me get you off or something?” he said, licking his sarcastic lips. 

“Like I said, if you don’t feel like it, I’m not gonna hold it against you. It’s late,” I said. 

He leaned back so I had a view down his slender body. His cock was so hard it lay against his belly. “Pretty sure I’m up for it, Jase.” He laughed and darted in to capture the head of my dick with his lips. 

Kirk gives head like a seasoned pro, every movement practised and choreographed to perfection. Lars has no style and zero technique but what he lacks in finesse he makes up in enthusiasm. If it’s possible for a blow job to be adorable, his are definitely in that category. He mmms and moans and attempts strange contortions with his tongue that don’t feel like much of anything and sometimes he’ll come close to choking himself, pull off and laugh with drool flowing over his chin. He stares up at me with his eyes open wide, scanning my face for approval the whole time. Lars has a great time and his improbable smile is way hotter than it should be. 

“Touch yourself, Lars. I wanna see how much you like it,” I said. 

He wasted no time wrapping an eager hand around himself. The head of his cock was red and weeping. He fisted himself and it only took four or five tight strokes for him to pump white streaks over the bit of bedspread hanging over the edge of the bed. 

Lars dragged the side of his hand up the cover, scraping his spend off the fabric. He spread it over his fingers as he reached behind himself, spreading his legs. 

“Hey now, none of that. Get up here on all fours so I can watch,” I said, sitting up so I could take his arm. 

He scooted onto the mattress, knees wide. His come glistened on his fingertips as he circled his hole. He made some very happy faces that would have seemed over the top in any other context, his breathing speeding up. He pressed back with his hips, finger finally penetrating his rim. 

“You sure you don’t want real lube for that?” I asked. Lars always insisted on using his own come instead of lube, and it was never as easy as he thought it would be. It’s basic math- come is sticky. Sticky things aren’t good lubrication. 

“Nah. I’m good,” he declined. And he must have been, otherwise he wouldn’t have added another finger. I fished in my duffel for a small bottle because I did want actual lube. I watched him alternate between scissoring his fingers and trying to shove as much of his own come inside himself as he could. I poured myself a handful of slick and stroked myself a few times. Lars’ eyes fixated on my pumping fist. “Hey, is it okay with you if I turn over? I-” his voice trailed off like he was going to ask for something he shouldn’t.

“You what?” Lars twisted his knee on a run a week ago. I wonder if it’s still bothering him.

He flushed, his cheeks pinking. “I wanna see,” he mumbled, shy.

I grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him to his back. I positioned myself between his legs and used the tip of my dick to trace his rim. True to his word, Lars stared between us, a little needy sound escaping his lips. He spread his legs wider, wrapping over my hips. 

“Come on, Jason. Wanna see you sliding into me,” he prompted. 

Reaching over, I grabbed the pillows and used them to prop Lars up so he didn’t have to kink his neck to watch. Lining myself up with his hole again, I stopped at the edge one more time.

“Bastard. Quit teasing me!” he huffed. 

“Oh, well. Whose benefit is this for, anyways? I thought you were the one making up to me,” I taunted him, pushing inside the smallest possible amount. I’m killing myself. What I wanted to do was slam my hips into him and bury myself in his heat. But watching Lars squirm was hot. If I got it right, he might beg.

“I am! I’m not the only one who wants it.” He arched his back a bit and took more of me inside. “Admit it, you love fucking me.” Lars rocked forward and the game was lost. My hips bucked into him with no help from my brain. He was tight and slick and hot and I couldn’t think at all. Lars used his grip on my hips for leverage, moving himself while I was overwhelmed by endorphins. 

My system came back online and I realized Lars was hard again, his cock bobbing between us. I guided one of his hands to it and we stroked him together in time with the beat of our bodies moving. I felt the rush building, that floating feeling like the very top of a roller coater right before the big drop.   
Lars took me by the chin, kissing me. “Please, Jase. I come so hard when you blow in me.”

That’s all it took for the world to come crashing down, a white wave of energy wiping out all my senses. All I could feel was my dick shooting as Lars spasmed out his own orgasm around me. He pulled me to him and I lay there for a minute letting him hug me while his spend soaked into my shirt. 

Our breathing returned to normal. Lars petted my hair. My limbs were heavy and rubbery, an artifact of post-orgasmic haze.

“Okay, that’s enough. You’re heavy!” Lars wriggled out from under me. He got dressed and leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek. “Bye. See you tomorrow.” 

And then he was gone. 

Two down. One to go. I downed a room temperature Jolt Cola from my back pack and dragged myself into the shower, hoping the water and the caffeine would perk me up. Even for someone my age, this was a lot of activity in one night. I washed off everything that was sticky or might have been smelly. 

I dressed minimally in boxers. Checking the time, I decided to prop open the door. It might save some complaints later. Stuffing a sneaker between the door and the frame to keep it cracked, I sighed. 

This next bit of the night was both the best and the worst. Based on past experience it would come with blood and tears. And a lot of come, I reminded myself. It wasn’t all bad. This was the denouement of James’ little play. This was the reason he forced the other two into leaving me behind. 

It would have been a lot less annoying if James could just ask for what he wanted. 

But he needed me annoyed. It was all part of his plan, and I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to.

James slammed in the open door and fired an empty beer bottle at my head. He was drunk so it went wide, hitting the wall and falling harmlessly. Good. This business was a lot less fun in broken glass. 

I launched myself at him, tackling him to the floor. He twisted around, landing me in open guard. He flailed wildly, landing a few half assed strikes on my shoulders and the side of my head. I shifted my weight thinking I was going to try and pin him down. He grabbed my arm and rolled, putting himself on top. Straddling me he rained fists on my face. I tasted blood and rage welled up inside. I shoved him back as hard as I could and he flew off me.

A split second later I was on him, feeding him my own fist. He went to his side, arms covering his head before crunching up under me, turtled momentarily. He scrambled to his feet with me on his back, my arm around his neck. I had to be pulling his hair and I just didn’t care. James tottered backwards, careening from my weight and fell onto the bed, starfished on top of me. His elbow drove the air out of my lungs when it hit my stomach. 

I grabbed my own arm to crush it across his throat. He got his chin down to stop me cutting off his breathing. I threw my leg over his side, trying to get momentum to slip myself to the top position. He dug his fingers into my thigh, nails scraping my skin. 

I wasn’t letting his drunk ass get the better of me. Bowing my back to get as much space as I could between our bodies, I tossed my head back and brought it up sharp to butt him in the back of the head. James instinctively curled away from me again. I pushed him again; he slid off the edge of the bed. 

I kicked at him ineffectively. James rose back to his knees and got a hold of my ankle. I tried to push him off with my other foot. He grabbed it too and gave me a wicked grin from behind the trickle of blood dripping down his face from a split eyebrow. He licked at the moisture, his perfect white smile streaked red. An instant later his hand flicked out to strip my shorts off. 

That was not unexpected, but it still took me a second too long to process the fact that now I wasn’t just in a fight, I was naked in a fight. James took the opportunity to leap on top of me again, his weight on my chest and his knee between my thighs. I struggled futilely, mostly managing to drag his shirt half over his head and not much else. James shook his hair free from the black t-shirt and got a grip on my neck. He pushed on it to bring himself to a sitting position. Black stars bloomed behind my eyes. 

I scrabbled at his hand with both of mine, trying to get my breath back. That left me totally vulnerable everywhere else. James didn’t take his hand off my throat, he just wrapped his other big hand around my cock. 

As an offensive move, it was brilliant. I had no way to fight back at all. If I thrashed around to get James off my body, I would hurt myself long before it had any effect on him. 

He let up minutely, letting me gulp a desperate breath. I went limp under him, a token submission. He waited to be sure I wasn’t going to fight any more before wiping the blood off his face and smearing it all over my chest. Tightening his grip on my rapidly filling dick, he leaned in and licked my blood from the corner of my lip. I turned my head to bite at his tongue. 

He bit my cheek, dragging his teeth across my face. He bit down again under my ear, hard enough to draw blood. 

I clamped my own teeth into his shoulder and ground them together. James’ blood flowed into my mouth. He let go of everything, keening at the sensation. We rolled around on the bed, scratching and biting with no real agenda except making the other bleed. I tore at James’ jeans trying to get them off. 

With a bit of help from me James managed to pin me again. He held me down with one arm and stripped off the rest of his clothes with the other. My hands immediately went to his ass, my fingers pressing half moon bruises into his pale skin as I pulled him to me. James’ hardness was heavy against my own as they rubbed together. I moaned into the hollow of his throat. 

He pulled my head back, yanking my hair. His eyes were bright and wet, his jaw set. He made me look up at him as the tears came. 

“Did you?” he demanded. 

I didn’t need clarification. We both knew exactly what he meant. 

I shook my head even though it hurt my scalp. 

“Did you let them?” he growled again. 

“No,” I gasped through the pain. Biting, scratching, all that’s hot. I hate having my hair pulled though. That’s another level. “Check for yourself if you don’t believe me.” I wondered how he knew about the others, let alone cared about it. 

A hand on my thigh, he pushed my legs further apart. A questing finger pushed at my very dry and very tight rim. I recoiled from the intrusion. 

James spotted the bottle of lube lying on the coverlet and reached for it. He had to stretch enough that his chest was even with my face. I bit his nipple hard. What else was I going to do? I followed that up by trying to suck hard enough that it would bruise. I wanted to look over at him on stage beside me and know that his growls were at least partly caused by his guitar strap rubbing over a mark I gave him. 

Bottle in hand, James settled himself across my thighs, pointedly out of reach of my teeth. He gave me a light cuff across the head with an open palm. “That’s for making me do this.”

“I’m on the bottom, doofus. I’m not making you do anything. I didn’t bust into your room and throw a bottle at you.” 

James liberally applied the lube to his fingers, holding up his hand so it ran down his arm. He looked at it like he was considering all the possibilities. All of them clipped through my head- what would James decide to do? There was a slight chance he would keep me pinned here while he jerked off all over me. More likely, he’d get himself slick and drive into me with no prep. I’d scream, he’d cry and then I would come all over myself in a nauseating combination of shame and arousal.

He did neither. He took the lube pooled in his palm and dripped it all over me. My cock jerked at the novel sensation. He spread it around with a slightly shaky hand and brought himself to his knees straddling my hips. 

“James- you don’t have-” 

I didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence as James impaled himself on my dick.

That was not what was supposed to happen. James was supposed to turn up drunk, we’d fight, he’d get the upper hand (through no fault of his own), and then he’d shove my face into the bed or the carpet while he reamed me. That was how this went. I had no way to process the reverse. This was James. James with the quick wit and the bottomless pit of anger, James who needed someone to take it out on before he ended up hurting someone who couldn’t handle it. 

James who currently looked positively ecstatic. He shifted a little, sinking further onto me. His mouth dropped open in an Oh of shock. I supposed he’d found his prostate. I wasn’t moving. I was pretty sure James hadn’t done this before and there was a chance he would change his mind violently. I was leaving everything up to him. 

He was beautiful, all blond hair, blood and the glitter of tears, the muscles in his thigh flexing as he started to ride me, slowly at first and then picking up speed, huffing out subvocal groans as he bit his lip. 

I brushed my fingertips over his glans before getting a decent enough grip to help him find release. James sobbed; his head thrown back. 

He convulsed as he came, shaking and overwhelmed. He collapsed onto my chest. Was I supposed to console him? Did he need consoling? We didn’t have that kind of relationship- I stayed quiet and let him collect himself a little. I was still in him, still hard, and not about to do anything that would change that. 

James continued to cry into my shoulder, his little gasps having the side effect of making him tense up around me. I wanted to feel bad about it, but he was squeezing me just enough to keep my attention completely focused on the connection between our bodies. I gave up and started to slide back enough that I could disengage. James rolled his hips, pushing my cock back inside him. He kept moving and I got closer to finishing. He mouthed at my neck, licking at the broken skin there from when he’d bitten me. His face was wet when he met my lips. 

James had never kissed me before. Bitten, punched, slapped, tackled, yes. Kissed, no. That wasn’t part of our MO. 

Whatever. I let him kiss me. I opened my mouth and let him explore me with his tongue. We fell into a give and take that had no trace of our usual aggression. That was the only way to describe the sex we had- it was nothing but aggression and adrenaline, mutually assured destruction. James and I would inflict as much damage on each other as we could. Either right before or right after he came, James cried. Every time. I was usually too distracted by the fierce presence of James inside me to have much sympathy. The tears didn’t slow him down at all. He still fucked me like an attempted murder. 

This was not that. James’ kiss was slow and soft, his hands light on the back of my head. He moved against me as if I were someone else, someone not accustomed to his violence, someone he cared about. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to my lips. 

I came as tears tracked down my own cheeks. James kissed me again and that was the first night he didn’t leave me alone.


End file.
